His Own
by alimison
Summary: Harry is having dreams about an extended family he met during his infancy. He is desperate to find out what has happened to them. Meanwhile some strange things are happening on the Hogwarts' Express...
1. Part One

Harry woke up in a cold sweat. Where was he? Suddenly he heard a clock ticking loudly in the hall; a slight rattle as Hedwig moved in her sleep inside the cage; thunderous snoring from down the hall where Uncle Vernon lay sweetly asleep, if you can really use that expression. He sat up slowly and pushed his glasses on, squinting at his watch which reflected the light from the street lamp outside. Three o'clock in the morning! He lay back in the bed again with a frown on his face. Another dream. No, not Lord Voldemort again - he had not allowed those dreams breathing space since his early summer Occlumency classes with Dumbledore - but perhaps just as disturbing as those.  
  
. . . 'Good morning, munchkin!' . . . he could hear a sweet voice . . . 'How is my darling today? Do you know who has come to see you, you lucky boy?' . . . a slightly gruff voice . . . 'He looks just like you, James, but he has my daughter's eyes, thank heaven' . . .  
  
Harry shook his head and blinked a few times, trying to think straight. What on earth was going on? It seemed to him as if he was having memories . from infancy! But that was hardly likely - most people hardly remember even the second year of their life - and this seemed as if his mother was there. And his father. And someone else.  
  
He remembered an earlier dream.  
  
. . . 'Now, Harry! Stand up - go on! Be a man!' . . . 'Oh, Henry, don't push the boy, you can see he loves to crawl' . . . and another dream . . . 'I have a feeling about this boy of yours, James - he's going to be a great wizard someday!' . . . 'Oh, Father, you can hardly tell now' . . . a more feminine voice piped up . . . 'and anyhow, I would love Harry just as much if he turned out to be a Squib, so there!'  
  
Harry had woken up with the pillow a little wet after that one.  
  
Now he tried to forget it all; he really should get some sleep. They would be up to all hours tomorrow night in the Gryffindor common room - Hogwarts tomorrow! It would seem almost heaven to him after the long, drowsy summer spent at the Dursleys', not allowed out for any reason whatsoever under orders of Albus Dumbledore himself. The Dursleys wouldn't have minded letting him out, hoping for his death, if they hadn't been so terrified of what Dumbledore could do. He had spent the entire summer in his room, hanging out for mail from his friends, nibbling at the myriad quantities of food which sympathetic Mrs Weasley had sent via Errol on a trip which had left Errol gasping for days by Hedwig's water bowl. It had been fun sometimes scaring Dudley almost into cardiac arrest, but most of the time he just got into more trouble if he did that, and now all the Dursleys simply stayed away from him as much as possible -  
  
What was that? Harry jumped up. Taps on the window. "Harry! Harry!"  
  
Harry rushed to the window on tiptoes, and almost pulled the curtain out of its rings in his eagerness to see who was there. The grinning faces of Moody, Tonks and Lupin greeted him, perched on their broomsticks outside. "All right, Harry?"  
  
Harry beamed. "I'm fine!" He paused. "Please take me away!"  
  
"Poor Harry," said Lupin, a sad smile on his face. "I bet you haven't had the best holidays of your life?"  
  
"No, you could say that," said Harry with a grin. "But you are here to take me, aren't you?"  
  
"Yeah, of course!" said Tonks. "What do you think we're here for, a social call?"  
  
Harry grinned. "I'll get my things." He stuffed all his clothes, all his books, into his big Hogwarts trunk until he could hardly close the lid. Hedwig's cage was strapped onto the trunk too, and Harry picked up his Firebolt, while scribbling a note to the Dursleys in case they cared. "I'll leave all Mrs Weasley's cakes to rot underneath the floorboards," he said. "Where are we going?"  
  
"Grimmauld Place," answered Moody.  
  
Harry started suddenly, and looked up. "Grimmauld Place?"  
  
The other three now looked serious. "Yes, Harry. I'm sorry. I know the whole house may bring back memories," said Moody softly.  
  
Harry swallowed, and looked away. "Hedwig, meet us at Grimmauld Place," he said softly to his owl. Hedwig nibbled his finger in an affectionate, comforting sort of way, and then soared out the wide-open window with a hoot. Moody waved a careless wand at Harry's things. "Petitio!" All Harry's luggage turned to the size of a thimble. Harry stared.  
  
"Just put it in your pocket, son," said Moody, "make sure it won't fall out."  
  
"Are you ready?" asked Lupin, still eyeing Harry with sympathy.  
  
"Yeah," said Harry, getting on his Firebolt. They soared off into the night, and the sensation of being in the air at long last was almost enough to rid Harry of the lump in his throat, and the pain in his heart. Sirius. . . he had almost managed not to think of Sirius - but then he didn't want to stop thinking of Sirius, either, in case he forgot him. It was all too recent, he decided, following Tonks on a steep climb above a low cloud.  
  
At last they arrived at Grimmauld Place. Harry got off his broom, almost sodden after having to fly through several clouds on which Moody, ever vigilant, had insisted on. He was shivering, and still in his pyjamas and thin jacket. The others bustled him into the house, whispering, and quickly took him upstairs. "Here's your room, Harry," said Lupin.  
  
"Is Ron here?" Harry asked sleepily.  
  
"Yes, but right now he is asleep, and doesn't know you're here, and I would suggest leaving him that way until the morning," replied Moody. "Now, get out your trunk from your pocket, I'll restore it to its proper size."  
  
Everything was done; the others left the room; Harry collapsed into bed. It was only as his eyes started to shut that he remembered the dream. He was utterly confused.  
  
************  
  
. . . 'Say hello to your aunty, Harry! Say hello to Alba!' . . . 'Hello, Harry, you young rascal, have you been ripping up any more important documents lately?' . . . a musical laugh . . . 'No, he's been very good, hasn't he, Lily?' . . . Harry's heart gave a jump - his father! . . . 'How's little Neville doing, Alba? Frank and Alice are so proud, it's lovely . . . but we haven't seen hardly any of the Order for such a time now, have we, James?' . . . 'At least we've got Sirius, Lily' . . . 'you're right, darling - good old Sirius!' . . .  
  
Harry sat up in bed, panting. It was too much; it really was. These dreams, they were driving him out of his mind, and now, to mention Sirius as well! He couldn't stand it. Well, there was to be no more sleep that night, that was for sure. Thoughts whirled in and out of his mind like manic steam rollers, leaving him so exhausted he had no way to stop them. Family . . . grandson . . . Sirius . . . munchkin . . . aunty . . . Alba . . . rascal . . .  
  
Harry finally fell asleep a few hours before daybreak, strained and exhausted.  
  
************  
  
"HARRY!! Harry!" A heavy lump landed on his bed like a lightning bolt, and shook him awake immediately. "Oh, Harry, when we went down to breakfast today, and they told us you were here, oh Harry! How are you, Harry?"  
  
"Tired," moaned Harry, rubbing his eyes.  
  
Hermione covered her mouth in a gasp. "Oh, sorry, Harry! I should have known!"  
  
"How are you, Harry?" asked Ron, grinning.  
  
"Good, I suppose," said Harry, smiling faintly back as he pulled on his glasses. "I guess you two have had a great summer."  
  
"All right," said Ron, screwing up his face. "It was just me and Ginny here with Mum and Dad most of the time. Fred and George apparently live with us, but they've been in Diagon Alley so much I hardly see them. There weren't even many of the Order in, now that You-Know-Who's announced his presence, and they have a headquarters at the Ministry. And Hermione abandoned me to go to the Middle East on her Ancient Runes trip."  
  
"Oh please Ron, as if I did," said Hermione sharply, and turned back to Harry with a grin on her face. "So, Harry, have you had a good summer?"  
  
He snorted. "Fat chance. Have I ever had a good summer staying with the Dursleys?"  
  
Her face fell. "Oh, Harry, I am sorry. I thought of you a lot, you know."  
  
"Yeah," added Ron. "And we did try to send you lots of stuff to put you out of your misery."  
  
"You did," admitted Harry. "Thanks, Ron, Hermione. I would've gone mad without it."  
  
Hermione lowered her voice to a whisper. "Have you had any more . dreams?" She said it as if dreams were the scariest thing in existence, but Harry wasn't laughing.  
  
"Not about Voldemort, if that's what you mean," he sighed.  
  
"Sirius?" whispered Hermione again.  
  
He shrugged. "A bit. Not really."  
  
"Then what have you been dreaming about?"  
  
He looked away for a moment. "I don't know . flashbacks and stuff ."  
  
"Like with the Dementors?" whispered Ron now in what could have been comical under different circumstances.  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, different now." He paused, trying to collect his thoughts. He began hesitantly. "I hear all these voices - my Mum, my Dad . . . and other people. I think they might be other relatives of mine. I hear them talk about aunties and grandparents and . . . yeah."  
  
"Weird," said Ron, his eyes wide.  
  
Hermione's eyes were, however, narrowed. "But what's happened to them, then? They weren't killed like your parents, were they?"  
  
Harry shrugged helplessly. "I have no idea."  
  
They all looked at each other wordlessly. Hermione at last broke the silence. "Maybe you should ask Dumbledore."  
  
"No, Hermione," said Ron, rolling his eyes. "Why do you always have to suggest that?"  
  
She scowled. "Simply because it is the most obvious and probably most effective way to solve the problem?"  
  
"It's an idea, Hermione," said Harry. "But . what if Dumbledore doesn't want me to know? If they're still alive, if I have any relatives . why hasn't he told me before this?"  
  
Ron fiddled with his shoelace, looking away. Hermione bit her lip. They didn't have the answers. 


	2. Part Two

"Ahhh. . . Hogwarts Express," sighed Ron, lying back on the cushioned seats lazily. "Last time we were on here, I ate too many chocolate frogs. I almost threw up when I finally got home."  
  
Harry said nothing as he put his bag in the luggage rail above the seats. Last time he had been on the train, he had been suffering from lack-of- Sirius. Luna had comforted him in a rather strange, Luna-like way, and it had worked - he had felt happier - but still the very tinge of Sirius meant an ache to his heart.  
  
Hermione came in, holding a note, beaming. She sat down and quickly unfolded the note, reading it over and over again.  
  
Ron and Harry watched her for a while, puzzled. After a few more minutes had passed and she showed no disposition to tell them what was so evidently exciting to her, Ron gave up. "What is it, Hermione?"  
  
She looked up. "What's what?"  
  
Hermione giggled nervously. "Oh, just a letter from Viktor. . ."  
  
"What?!" cried Ron. "You're still writing to Krum?"  
  
"Yes, isn't he sweet!"  
  
As neither Harry nor Ron saw Krum as sweet, nor had they received letters from him, they just looked at Hermione as if she was crazy. "Her-my-ninny. . . you're mad," said Ron slowly, casting an amazed look at Harry.  
  
"What do you know?" snapped Hermione. "You were just about bent over backwards all that year to get his attention! You even asked him for his autograph!"  
  
Ron's ears were beetroot red; it was obviously something he didn't want to be spread around. "Well, at least I didn't fall all over him like you did!"  
  
Hermione seethed. "For your information, Ronald, I did not 'fall all over him'!"  
  
"Well, it looked like it to me!" scowled Ron. "Why don't you just go and join him in Bulgaria if you love him so much!"  
  
Hermione smirked. "Well, maybe I will!"  
  
Ron's eyes almost popped out of his head. "Sorry?"  
  
"I said. . ." mocked Hermione, "that maybe I will."  
  
"But. . . but. . ." floundered Ron.  
  
"Viktor has just sent me an owl," said Hermione triumphantly. "He's going to be coaching Quidditch at his school this year, and he said they need someone like me to go and help with administration and research and things like that. It's the sort of thing I've always wanted to do, and I could complete my school training there as well. I'm seriously thinking about going."  
  
Ron was furious. "You can't go, Hermione!"  
  
"Watch me," threatened Hermione fiercely.  
  
Harry decided it was time to get between the squalling cats. "Hermione, Ron, calm down."  
  
Both heads swivelled around immediately.  
  
"Hermione, I don't really think you should go. We need you here."  
  
"Says the hero of Hogwarts," said Hermione sulkily.  
  
Harry looked like he had been slapped. He felt it, too. Hermione had never before said something like that to him. When everyone else had been running away from him and calling him crazy and a liar and stuck-up, Hermione's head had never been swayed by all of it. Even Ron had suspected him of putting his own name in the Goblet of Fire in their fourth year. Hermione had never been so foolish. When everyone else was either congratulating him and treating him like a celebrity, or being fiercely jealous and making snide comments about him, like Malfoy, Hermione had treated him just as she normally would. And now. . .  
  
Hermione had noticed this too. She was looking at Harry as if she had just said the most horrible thing in the world. "Oh my goodness, I'm sorry, Harry! I didn't mean it, you know I didn't!"  
  
"Yeah, well, maybe you're the sort Durmstrang needs, after all," said Harry in a flat monotone. He stood up and walked out to the corridor. He sighed as he walked down the corridor to an empty compartment. He could hear Ron's voice calling, "Harry! Harry!" and then snapping wrathfully at Hermione with "Now look what you've done! Why'd you need to blow off at him?"  
  
Leaning on the windowsill, he stood and watched the world go by. Harry wasn't really upset; just a little shell-shocked. He supposed that in a few minutes he would go back into Ron and Hermione's compartment and everything would be normal. Maybe Ginny or Neville or Luna would be there; maybe Seamus or Dean. He would sit down, perhaps shortly answer a few of their questions, pointedly ignore Hermione, and then be back to normal. He wouldn't forget though; he couldn't. So far, bar perhaps the Dursleys and Snape, and they didn't count, Hermione had been one of the very few people he knew who would never treat him like the general populace treated him. Dumbledore was one, Lupin was one, and Sirius was one and Sirius was gone. He sighed again.  
  
A slight movement behind him succeeded in whipping him around. Not for nothing had he faced Voldemort four times; his reactions were now bullet- fast. No deathly danger greeted him. It was Cho.  
  
"Hi, Harry," she said, a slight blush on her cheeks. "I - I just thought I'd say hi."  
  
"Hi," he replied hesitantly.  
  
"How were your holidays?" she asked.  
  
He almost grinned, but couldn't control the sarcasm in his voice. "Splendid, the Dursley palace is, as usual, five-star and a delight to be in."  
  
Cho gave a small smile. "Those Muggles?"  
  
"Yeah, it wasn't the best summer possible. How were yours?"  
  
"Great!" she smiled. "I went to the seaside with my family . . . Roger Davies came too."  
  
"Oh," he said, feeling she was expecting him to say something.  
  
"Well . . . bye," she said.  
  
"Bye," he replied.  
  
He smiled a little. If things had gone differently . . . it might have been him spending the holidays with Cho. But then, he wouldn't have been allowed to, would he? And anyway, Harry Potter was over Cho Chang. To tell the truth, he was a little annoyed with people like Cho - she was so girlish. Not to say that all girls were girlish. Cho magnified femininity a thousand times and expected you to know it. He smiled again, and started to walk out the door to return to his friends' compartment. He had almost forgotten everything about Hermione - for the moment anyway - when -  
  
CRASH! Harry was flung off his feet and landed sprawled on the ground as all the lights went out. The whole coach was plunged into darkness, and on a wicked angle. Harry managed to stand up tentatively as sparks flew from the F. M. T. C. (Flimsybottle's Magical Train Circuit) and he pulled out his wand quickly. What on earth was going on? He couldn't make out anything in proximity to him as they had stopped in a tunnel; quickly he murmured, "Lumos!" The carriage lit up.  
  
Harry crept down the coach to his friends' compartment. The train was eerily silent, and he had a feeling not dislike the one he had had in the Ministry of Magic that fateful evening a few months ago. He quickly opened the door of Ron and Hermione's compartment. They were lying on the floor perfectly still, and Harry's heart suddenly raced. Not his friends!  
  
But as he was about to throw himself down next to them and shake them, Ron started to move, and Hermione rubbed her eyes. "Harry!" she said, seeing him outlined behind the faint light of his wand. "What's going on?"  
  
"I don't know," said Harry. "Shhh! What's that?"  
  
He heard screams coming from down the hall as some of the smaller students plunged themselves into terror. He heard some of the prefects trying to stop them, and he heard Malfoy saying contemptuously, "Shut up, you snot- nosed little idiots!" But the wails went on, and rose until everyone was completely confused. People rushed past the door, trying to see what was going on. Ron sat up and rubbed his nose. Neville fell out a window. Although Harry couldn't see, Luna sat in the corner of her compartment, her nose buried in her copy of the Quibbler - otherwise, everything was chaotic.  
  
Then a voice, over everyone else's. A voice that poured relief into the hearts of many. "Would everyone please calm down, and return to their seats?"  
  
"Dumbledore!" gasped Hermione. "What's he doing here?"  
  
The train suddenly lifted a few inches into the air, and hovered slowly along the tunnel until they were out in the open again. It was somewhat relieving to see each other in real light again, and the shrieks slowly abated. Dumbledore's voice came again, amplified as if by a megaphone, but actually by the Sonorus charm. He sounded very serious. "Will all Hogwarts students please leave the train and gather by the nearby stone bridge - that is a command!"  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged quick glances and followed this order, jumping out from the train which was tipped up at a strange angle. They ran across the grass, Hermione pulling a little first year who was absolutely white with fear. All the students assembled around a small bridge leading over the steep ditch to a paddock. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen. Nobody said a word, but all stood still, nervously awaiting whatever was to come.  
  
All of a sudden, a brilliant flash of green light came from the upturned train. Harry almost sprang up and rushed off to the train - green light was known instinctively to him as the Avada Kedavra curse. But as he was about to jump, a voice came from the train. "No, Harry, I am in no need of help, thank you." Dumbledore appeared from the train and made his way down the steep bank to where the students waited. A sigh of relief wafted through the whole crowd, although Harry could see people like Malfoy looking mutinous.  
  
Dumbledore looked very serious about something, although a smile wrinkled his face briefly in the students' direction. "Nothing to worry about, nothing to worry about," he said slowly. "Just a minor glitch in the spell used at Platform Nine and Three Quarters; the train almost overturned because of it. You are all very lucky that there are no serious injuries. Now, I am going to repair the train, and you will all travel on in perfect safety to Hogwarts. Understood?"  
  
A murmur arose from the crowd. Dumbledore understood perfectly. "Now, now, there is no use in being pedantic about travelling in previously overturned trains. It will be quite safe once I'm finished with it - trust me. And I will be travelling with you. Now, everybody get on board."  
  
They all turned around to see the train restored perfectly to the shining coaches they had been in when they had left King's Cross. Everyone scurried back to the coaches; it was windy outside. "Hello, Harry!" grinned Neville, who had caught up with the three of them. "Good summer?"  
  
"Not particularly," said Harry, smiling at the peculiarly brave Neville. "Yours?"  
  
"Oh, not much better," said Neville. "I just - I just went to St Mungo's a lot." He beamed.  
  
Harry was confused. This was the first time Neville had said anything regarding his parents' condition without shying away from the topic or looking extremely upset. "But." came out his mouth before he could stop it.  
  
"They're getting better, Harry," whispered Neville conspiratorially. "My mum called me by my name the other day."  
  
"That's great, Neville," said Harry, smiling back. "That's really great!"  
  
Neville was about to reply when Harry felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around. "Harry, you will come with me," said Dumbledore.  
  
Harry's stomach leapt. "But sir, I didn't do anything!"  
  
"I know," Dumbledore replied, with a wry smile. "My, you'd almost think you had done something the way your mind jumps to conclusions, Harry!"  
  
Harry smiled wordlessly and followed Dumbledore to the train. What on earth was going on? Should he tell the headmaster about his dreams? With a troubled sigh, he climbed onto the train and sat down in the carriage Dumbledore led him to. 


	3. Part Three

"Well, Harry," Dumbledore said, slight concern in his eyes, "how was your summer?"  
  
"All right, thank you, sir," Harry replied colourlessly. His mind was swimming with questions and his stomach was churning.  
  
"Did the Occlumency lessons help?"  
  
"Yes, very much."  
  
"I suppose the Dursleys were not at their most hospitable?"  
  
"No." Harry paused, while Dumbledore stared out of the window. "Ah, sir, why I am here? What happened just then?"  
  
"Patience is a virtue, Harry," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye. "I was getting to that. Now, Harry. . ."  
  
"Yes, sir?"  
  
Dumbledore looked him straight in the eyes, now empty of any of the humour of before, but filled with a seriousness Harry had seen only on occasion. "I have just discovered, Harry, that there is something I need to tell you - urgently. I didn't realise how important it would be until just now." He looked out the window again, seemingly piercing the view in search of anything untoward. "Harry - there was another prophecy made concerning you."  
  
"Oh no," groaned Harry. He had hated the very word 'prophecy' ever since he learnt of the very prophecy which was now the bane of his existence.  
  
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "It seemed so . . . meaningless, in a way, that I didn't even bother telling you about it. Now I realise my mistake. I read this prophecy in such a way that it was, frankly, boring. But there was another way to read it, and it has been revealed to me only now. I am determined to tell it to you immediately; I must never make the same mistake again and leave it until I feel more comfortable with it."  
  
Dumbledore was silent again. "Yes?" pushed Harry. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know, the way the Headmaster was putting it, but anything was better than sitting here imagining himself destined for horrible and painful fates.  
  
"The evening Sybill Trelawney installed herself at Hogwarts, I went to visit her to see how she was doing, how she was settling in. I climbed up her little ladder and entered the classroom just in time to hear that rather raspy voice she uses. I recognised it at once from the prophecy I had heard only a few weeks before, and listened closely. Unfortunately one of the board of trustees was with me, who has since proved himself guilty to the world of being a member of Lord Voldemort's group of Death Eaters. You know who he is; Lucius Malfoy heard it all too. This is what she said." He paused, and when he spoke, he spoke slowly, clearly but hesitantly. "'The boy who lived, the boy who lived - he will meet one who needs him on the tracks of the express; he will meet one of his blood whom he needs in his time of sorrow. The one who needs him will be his peril and his saviour. He will meet him after the second father is gone.'" Again Dumbledore paused.  
  
"Is that all?" asked Harry, completely confused and tensing himself for the explanation which must follow.  
  
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "That is about all. Do you understand it?"  
  
"No, of course not," said Harry. "What tracks? What blood?"  
  
"Harry," said Dumbledore. "I read that prophecy to mean, you would meet someone at some point who might do you good and harm. I didn't think it meant anything serious. And I had no idea who this second father might be. I forgot all about this prophecy until today. And Harry, I am going to tell you something you must not tell a single soul - I suppose it will be impossible for you to regard Miss Granger and Mr Weasley as a single soul. Just be careful. Too much knowledge is not always a good thing for those it does not concern. Anyhow, Harry, the train was attacked today."  
  
"It was?" said Harry, leaning forward with eyes open wide.  
  
"Yes; unlike my unforgivable lapse of judgement, Lucius Malfoy had not forgotten this prophecy. When he remembered it, he told Lord Voldemort, obviously, and a Death Eater was sent to apprehend the train. A young man named Belshazzar Foygar is now securely bound in this train, awaiting the Ministry officials to arrive and take him to Azkaban."  
  
"Why this train, sir?"  
  
"Well . . ." said Dumbledore slowly, "I am almost certain that when the prophecy says 'the tracks of the express', it means these railway tracks, and the Hogwarts Express. And then your second father would mean Sirius, of course, especially the mention of your time of sorrow." Harry looked out the window again rather quickly. " 'One of your blood' suggests one of your family line, Harry."  
  
"Yes!" said Harry eagerly. "Professor, sir, I have been having these dreams about my family! I think the people in them are my grandparents, and I remember something about an aunt called Alba, and there were a few other people too. . ."  
  
"Alba?" interrupted Dumbledore, a strange look in his eyes.  
  
"Yes, and I was meaning to ask you, who are they all? Are they still alive?" Harry waited breathlessly.  
  
"Oh, yes," sighed Dumbledore. "I thought this might come up at some point." But he remained silent. As soon as Harry opened his mouth, Dumbledore waved his hand to stop him. Finally he said, "All right, Harry. It is only fair that you know. I apologise that I have not told you before, but I thought it best. It would have endangered not only your own life. But now is the best time."  
  
"Yes?" continued Harry eagerly.  
  
"Your father, James, was the son of Henry and Lucia Potter. As a twizard."  
  
"Twizard?!" asked Harry.  
  
"Teen wizard," explained Dumbledore. "Rather an old-fashioned term nowadays. Anyway, as a twizard, James had one aunt alive, by marriage. She was called Alba, and was thus your great-aunt. He had two sisters, Septima and Gretchen. Your mother's parents were George and Rose Evans, muggles, and as you know, she had a sister, Petunia. You don't know, however, that she had a sister called Poppy. She and Lily were the only witches in their family."  
  
Harry's head was spinning. To be told you had relations after a life of no relations was really quite stunning. "Do I have any cousins?"  
  
"We'll come to that, Harry." Dumbledore gave him a brief smile. "I must confess this is rather difficult for me - you see, Alba . . . she was my twin sister. She married your great-uncle."  
  
Harry's mouth opened. Nothing came out.  
  
"Yes," sighed Dumbledore. "Well, you and I are somewhat related because of that, Harry."  
  
"Uh-huh," gurgled Harry.  
  
"Alba and Albus!" smiled Dumbledore. "My parents were not the most original people ever, as you may be able to discern." He shook himself briefly. "Well, Gretchen, your father's sister, married a Bulgarian man named Sebastian Krum."  
  
Again Harry goggled. "K-krum?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, Harry - Viktor Krum is your cousin." Dumbledore went on as if he had said nothing extraordinary at all. "And Poppy Evans, who had an affair, had a son called Michael. The Dursleys knew about him, but they never spoke to Poppy or her son and refused to be acquainted with them, on account of Poppy's rather unwise affair. One of their few moments of discernment of what is actually wrong, although they really didn't need to fear anything, in this case. For, you see, Poppy had an affair with Lord Voldemort."  
  
Now, more than any other time, Harry gaped, tonsils bared and eyes wide, incredulous at this amazing piece of news that Dumbledore had given him. The headmaster looked at him somewhat carefully. "Not too much news at once, Harry?"  
  
"No, no," gasped Harry, "carry on."  
  
"Well, Voldemort got tired of Poppy quickly, let her give birth to the child she had become pregnant with, and then got rid of her quickly." Dumbledore frowned and paused. "Poppy Evans was a nice girl. Almost as nice as your mother. I can't think why she fell for Voldemort, of all people. But she really did fall in love with him, and he, well, I suppose he just wanted amusement. After all, she was a muggle-born and you know how much he hated muggle blood. When he killed her, he tried to get hold of the baby. But I wouldn't let him get near the boy. He still doesn't know his name, or his whereabouts, or anything about him." He paused. "As for your grandparents, both of Lily's parents were killed by Voldemort - he was trying to search for both James and Lily, and Poppy's son. So after Lily died, the only member of the family left was Petunia. You may have wondered why she hates wizards and witches so much; her dread of the unknown is only part of the reason. In fact, magical people brought about the deaths of all her family."  
  
"I see," murmured Harry. And he did see. He saw the look on Aunt Petunia's face from the year before, when he told the Dursleys that Voldemort was back - that look of fear, of sudden knowledge, of understanding.  
  
"In your father's family, well, Gretchen is still alive. She was one of the Order, and well protected from Voldemort's efforts to get to your father and mother."  
  
"Why haven't I ever met her?" burst out Harry angrily. "Why couldn't I live with her instead of the Dursleys?"  
  
Dumbledore fixed his calm eyes on Harry's. "It's simple really. You know why you have to call the Dursleys' house home; it is because your mother's blood runs in Petunia's veins. Gretchen was not related to your mother but by marriage."  
  
"Well, yes, I see that, but not to even have met her!"  
  
"You may see later why such a step had to be taken," said Dumbledore. "However, your aunt Septima was killed by Voldemort."  
  
Harry's head spun still more. All these relations killed! His anger grew, but not at Dumbledore - at Voldemort.  
  
"And your great-aunt Alba died too. She was on a mission for the Order of the Phoenix, and met a few Death Eaters who surprised her and tricked her, the worms," said Dumbledore, an angry look on his face that Harry rarely saw. "They would never have been able to conquer Alba Dumbledore without foul trickery, oh no! They were as scared of her as they were of Voldemort."  
  
"What did they do, sir?" asked Harry softly. He had never thought that Professor Dumbledore had had losses as great as his own loss of Sirius.  
  
Dumbledore smoothed his beard down. The usual look returned to his eyes; that look of a calm, waiting lake which hid, but also illuminated the paradoxical, poised power of Dumbledore - he could be terrifying and comforting in this power at the same time. "You wouldn't want to know, Harry, and I wouldn't want to tell you. Anyway, your father's parents were more successful in keeping out of Lord Voldemort's clutches than many others of your relations. They survived, until a few hiding Death Eaters found them and tortured them. Your grandmother died. Your grandfather became insane, like Neville Longbottom's parents had. He is in St Mungo's still."  
  
"He is there?!" blurted out Harry. "Why didn't you tell me anything of this? According to you, I have two cousins, an aunt and a grandfather alive! Why didn't you tell me?!"  
  
Dumbledore's eyes were sad. "It is a terrible thing to be without family, Harry, I understand. But you must understand in turn that I had very good reasons to hide this from you."  
  
"What, then?" cried Harry. "Why could this be so dangerous?"  
  
"Firstly, your grandfather is dangerous. The Death Eaters' torturing of him left him terrified of anyone, and he is liable to attack anyone he sees. He even attacked his own daughter, Gretchen, when she tried to see him, and did serious harm to her. As he knew his daughter a great deal more than you, and was likely to thus attack you, a committee judged it best that you did not know he was alive."  
  
"A committee?" said Harry. "What does a committee have to do with me? I could at least know."  
  
Dumbledore went on. "You knew nothing about your cousin Michael, firstly because the Dursleys wouldn't admit he was alive, and secondly because you would be watched by Voldemort's followers in case you showed them were Voldemort's son was. And you didn't know Gretchen existed because knowing one relative existed would generally make you ask if any more did. Neither does Viktor Krum know that you are his cousin."  
  
Harry seethed. Once again, people making decisions for him. Did it ever occur to these people who wanted to keep him perfectly safe, that while he was oh-so-safe, he rotted at the Dursleys, with family only in word and not in action? "And what does this have to do with today, sir?" he gritted out with teeth clenched.  
  
"Well, the prophecy said you would meet one of your own blood on this train. They assumed this to be Voldemort's son. They were right. Michael is starting Hogwarts this year, after a few years of homeschooling, and is on the train right now."  
  
"Now?" said Harry, the anger shocked right out of him.  
  
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to meet him?" 


End file.
